


lungs

by Dreamicide



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Eventual Romance, First Kiss, Fluff without Plot, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, merman Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10441350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamicide/pseuds/Dreamicide
Summary: After a near drowning experience as a child in which he doesn't remember how he survived, Lance avoids the ocean he once loved. He doesn't realize that's where his savior lives.Or: a slice-of-life story about a boy and his mermaid.





	1. take a deep breath, suck the water in my chest

**Author's Note:**

> Russian translation by Sarritena:
> 
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/6744841

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age four

“Mama! Look at me!” The boy waits for his mother to turn her attention from one of his siblings building a sandcastle to smile at him, nodding encouragingly.

“I'm watching,” she says, the approval in her mellifluous voice giving Lance the confidence to wade out further in the water. The gentle ocean waves lap around his small chest as he slowly inches forward. Her expression flickers into concern for a moment when he's far out enough for the water to each his neck, but relaxes when he then starts treading with his arms, practicing what he's learned in swimming classes. He glances back up to check if his mother is still watching him, grinning widely, and she claps.

Carefully, Lance lets the swell of an oncoming wave push him forward a few feet closer to shore, back to waist height. Sinking his toes in the sand below, he calls back out, “Okay, now don't - don't look.”

His mother raises an eyebrow.

“Don't look!” he insists. “I wanna practice my next trick before showing you!”

Chuckling, she angles herself back to the sandcastle one of his sisters is building, but she keeps her eye carefully on him. Lance sees it, and pouts his lips out. “ _Mama_ ,” he huffs, attempting to imitate his mother’s sternness when scolding one of her children, “I said don't. Look.” He even puts his hands on his hips the same way she does.

She laughs, and Lance prepares to remind her one more time, but then his little brother starts trying to eat a handful of sand, which thoroughly distracts his mother as she finally turns away from Lance. Feeling he has enough privacy, he wades back out into neck-high water, letting the waves lap at his skin.

Lance loves the ocean. The brine of sea water, salt crusting on his skin, sand between his toes, the smell of seaweed in his nose; living just a few minutes’ stroll down the boardwalk makes these senses an integral part of Lance’s life. He can't imagine not seeing the waves crash and feeling the sun bear down on him everyday.

He hasn't lived very long yet, but Lance wants to stay by the ocean forever. He feels he was born to swim here.

Lance treads the water with his arms and legs like he's practiced in classes for a few moments. When he gets tired, he lets himself sink back down to rest, searching for the sand floor with wiggling toes - but it's not there. He drops down, the water submerging him so abruptly that he flails. The salt water burns his eyes when he kicks back up, spitting the taste out of his mouth when his head breaches the surface. After catching his breath, he tries again to find the bottom. It's still not there. He goes under, kicks furiously, and splashes back up. His arms and legs are very quickly getting tired - he needs to find shallow water fast.

Lance writhes, turning around to swim back to shore. It's so far away. When did it get so far away? He doesn't remember swimming out that much. The beach is so distant his family looks like a group of ants, and he realizes he's out alone in open water. He kicks, splashes, forgetting the moves he's spent so long learning and practicing in classes, desperately trying to swim back, but he never gets any closer. If anything, it looks like he's even farther away than before.

Lance starts to panic.

He whimpers, pushing himself even harder to get back to shore, but in vain. He's getting so tired. He wants to cry. Lance breathes in to scream, but then he sinks, his voice coming out as nothing but bubbles. He reaches up, feeling the cool wind against his hands, and kicks weakly. When he feels the air against his face, Lance tries to scream again. No sound comes out. He sinks again. So tired.

His eyes open through the sting of brine, looking up at the surface. It's only inches away from his face. The bright sphere of the sun is distorted through the water; he reaches for it. Can't hold his breath any longer.

_Mama, look at me._

His lungs burn, he's so tired.

_Mama, please look at me…_

Something grabs hold of his hand.

*

Lance doesn't know what happens. But when he comes to, he's back in his sobbing mother’s arms, holding him tight, and he vomits seawater. He weakly flits in and out of consciousness as an ambulance is called and takes him to the hospital.

Lance remembers later being praised by many people - his father, first responders, lifeguards - for being so smart and knowing just what to do when getting caught in a rip current: swim parallel to the shore, break free of the current, and then swim back. Lance doesn't think it sounds right. He didn't do any of those things - he hadn't even learned what rip currents were yet. But he can't explain how he got back, either, so he shrugs, stays quiet.

He stops going out into the ocean.


	2. what the water gave me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age six

Lance sits on the beach with his mother, curled legs to his chest and chin resting on his knees. He watches his cousins splashing about in shallow water, shrieking and laughing as they wrestle one another. He digs his toes in the warm, dry sand, missing the feel of it when wet and grounding him from the waves. His friends and family all stopped calling out for him to join them in the water a while ago; they know he'll always decline.

It's not like he's scared of the ocean. Lance doesn't know why he reacts the way he does whenever he goes out further than a few inches - it's like something seizes him by the chest and chains him down, freezing him like a deer in headlights. He can't handle the feeling of nothingness below his feet, nothing to ground him. It makes him feel lost, sick.

… Okay, maybe he is a little bit scared of the ocean.

But he misses it. He misses it like it's a piece of his soul ripped out from his fingers. Lance has tried so many times in the past two years to overcome these feelings, but the farthest he can ever go is up to his ankles.

“I'm gonna go to the pier.” Lance stands up, brushing sand from his legs, and turns to his mother for her permission.

It's right by where they've set up their blankets for the day, so she smiles warmly and nods. “Don't stray far. Bring me a pretty shell?”

“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around her neck and kisses her cheek before leaving for the pier. It's a large structure, housing a restaurant and fishing docks at the top, but that's not his destination. It's the underside, weaving through giant wooden pillars and stepping over beached seaweed. The water is peaceful and quiet here, gently lapping at barnacles on the pillars, and the wooden planks above groaning under the footsteps of patrons. It's become Lance’s favorite place to go when he wants to be alone.

Finding the familiar large piece of driftwood, he sits on it like a bench and closes his eyes. Even if he can't participate, Lance loves the sounds of the ocean. Seagulls crying, crabs skittering, wind spraying salt in his hair, a startled gasp and splash to his left --

Wait, what was that last part?

Opening his eyes, Lance shoots up and turns in time to see a flash of dark hair disappearing behind one of the thick pillars.

Lance blinks. “Um, hello? Is someone there?”

“Go away.”

Well, at first Lance thought he could make a new friend, but not if the stranger’s going to be like that. He scowls. “Nu-uh, this is my spot.”

“No it's not, now go away!”

Lance doesn't like to swear, but what the heck!

“Uhhhh you're not the boss of me! You're too scared to even come out. I'm sitting here whether you like it or not.” Just to punctuate his point, Lance crosses his arms and plops back down on the driftwood. He inwardly winces. Wood isn't good for the butt.

The stranger falls silent, still hiding in his spot behind the pillar. After a few moments he speaks again, more quiet than before. “Please…” his voice wavers. “Please just go away. Leave me alone.”

The frown melts off Lance’s face. He gets up again, tentatively stepping closer into the shallow water. “Are you… are you crying?”

“No.”

“It sounds like you are. Are you okay? My mama has a first aid kit.”

“I said I'm not!”

“Then why are you hiding, huh?”

Lance is close enough to reach out and touch the pillar, avoiding the slippery-looking barnacles. Circling around, he starts to peer over, looking for the stranger --

Something big and red slashes through the shallow water, sending a spray into Lance’s face. He falls back on his rump, crying out in surprise. “Hey!” Wiping his eyes quickly, he looks up to send a glare, but then stops.

The stranger is a kid who looks to be about Lance’s age. He clutches to the side of the pillar, hissing like a cat - actually _hissing_ at him, shaking long wet hair out of his eyes. Curled in on himself, he looks almost feral, like one of those kids from the storybooks Lance’s mother reads to him at night. At first Lance thinks he's wearing long red swim trunks, but when he shifts, Lance sees vibrant red, orange, and violet scales catching in sunlight peeking through the floorboards above.

Again, Lance doesn't like to swear, but holy crow!

“You're a mermaid!” he gasps. “You're --”

“You're --” the mer starts at the same time. His eyes are wide on Lance’s, giving him a clear view of the indigo flecks in the color.

Lance is drowning.

_Eyes looking at him. Webbed fingers on his. Slipping. Grabs again. Pulling. Black hair. Red tail. There's air on his face. He can breathe again._

Lance would worry about acting strange, freezing up so suddenly with his mouth gaping, except it looks like the mer is going through something similar. He stills, eyes scanning over Lance with a kind of recognition he can't describe. It gives Lance the courage to ask.

“Um… have we met?”

Lance doesn't notice the fins on the mer’s head in lieu of human ears until they droop suddenly, folding against his head. He almost looks… guilty? “Yeah.”

It all connects.

“Wait!” he practically shrieks. “So are you the one who saved me forever ago? That's what happened? You're a mermaid and you saved me?! You're a mermaid and you saved me!”

He knew there was no way he swam back on his own!

He wants to hug him. He barely resists. “You saved me! You saved me!”

“Look, I'm sorry, okay?!”

Lance stops jumping up and down to stare at the creature. He has his shoulders hunched up, sinking into himself defensively.

“Huh?”

“I - I don't know what I did, I was only trying to help back then…”

Lance blinks. “I'm confused.” He steps closer. “You're sorry?”

The merchild nods.

“But you saved my life. You saved me. That's good.”

The boy doesn't look like he believes him. “But you never came back after that.”

“Uh?”

“You used to swim every day,” the mer admits, averting his eyes. He shifts in his spot, tail swishing lightly in water only inches deep. Lance wonders if he can even move this far up shore. If it's why he hasn't swam away. “I never talked to you, but I saw you a lot. From far away. So when I saw you that day… I thought something was wrong. But you never came back. I thought I did something bad.”

“No,” says Lance laughing a little, “No, the opposite! You helped me. I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

The merchild relaxes a little. “I'm sorry too. For the yelling. Um…” He trails off, tail curling a little and letting water droplets fall from the tips of his fin. “Since I helped you then, could you help me?”

Lance beams brightly. “Yeah!” he immediately agrees. “What do you need help with?”

“I'm stuck.” He looks embarrassed as he shifts around, wet and dry sand alike sticking incessantly to his fins and tail. “I swam too close to shore, and I can't move no matter how hard I try. Could you take me back to the water?”

He glances back to the ocean, and Lance follows his gaze. The waves are gentle here, but he still feels apprehensive, biting his lip as he turns back to the mer. “How… how far out?”

“Just until I can swim again,” the boy says.

“Like… a foot of water?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

Lance takes a deep breath. Okay. He can do this. He's sure not going to offer his help to the one who saved his life only to take it back because he's too scared. How lame would that be?

Drawing forward, Lance offers his hands. The boy takes them in his own, slipping webbed fingers locked into his. Lance smiles at the image. “Just like before, huh?”

“Mm.”

Keeping his smile on, Lance turns them around and starts dragging him back toward the water. He feels it wetting his ankles, raising higher with each step. _Don't think about it. Don't think about it._ He digs his toes deep into wet sand with every step, rooting him before pushing onwards.

The mer is quiet, squirming every once in a while as he's dragged through the coarse sand. His tail thwaps the surface, eyebrows furrowing when they make it out in about half a foot of water and he still can't get enough traction to dart away home.

_Don't think about it._

“I’M LANCE,” he blurts out suddenly, visibly startling the other boy. “I - I mean, my name is Lance! W-what's yours?”

Blinking, he parts his lips to answer. “Yksshkrr.”

“Bless you.”

He looks at Lance flatly. “Yksshkrr,” he repeats slowly, the name rolling off his tongue like the sound of storm waves crashing against each other. Lance doesn't think he even has the right organs to replicate it.

“Um,” he looks at Yksshkrr apologetically. “Can I maybe call you by a nickname?”

The mer tilts his head quizzically, but nods.

“Okay. That kinda sounded like Quiche.”

He scowls darkly.

“All right, no go. Kurt?”

Still frowning.

“Fishy McFishface?”

Now he's glaring.

“Keith?”

He frowns a little bit less.

“Keith it is, then.”

Lance doesn't even realize they're already in a full foot of water by the time they settle on a nickname, jumping a little when Keith abruptly slips from his fingers and shoots out like a torpedo. “Woah!” He scrambles back to shallower waters as he watches Keith darting around the pillars, circling in figure eights. When he breaches the surface, through the long hair falling over his eyes, Lance sees him smiling for the first time.

“Thank you!”

Beaming, Lance waves his hands, laughing when Keith lifts his tail and does the same. “Hey, Keith! You wanna be friends?!”

“Lance, who are you talking to?”

Lance nearly trips over himself at the sound of his mother coming below the pier, turning to see her smiling down kindly at him. He glances out over the water. Keith is gone. “N-no one, Mama.”

She laughs airily, and he remembers. He forgot to find her a pretty shell.

 


	3. and the arms of the ocean are carrying me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age eight

Curling himself into the fetal position, Lance moans, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He feels his mother’s delicate fingers brushing his hair back soothingly, worry etched in her voice.

“Pobrecito… is it worse than yesterday? Better?”

“About the same,” Lance mumbles, burying his face into his blue bedsheets.

His mother makes a sympathetic hum, and his little brother’s head pops up over the edge of the bed, wide eyes blinking in curiosity. “Mama, why is Lance still in bed?”

“He does not feel well.”

“But he's been sick forever!”

“Ughhh,” Lance makes a pathetic noise, kicking weakly out at his sibling. “Leave m’alooone.” They both stick their tongues out at one another.

His mother picks up Lance’s brother and props him on her hip, chiding him lightly not to bother him when he's sick. She glances back to Lance. “Do you want me to call school and let them know you're not coming again today?”

Lance purses his lips out in a pout, looking as though it's the last thing he wants. “I guess,” he concedes. “I shouldn't go when I'm sick, should I.”

“It would be better for you to recover first, yes.” She sets down his squirming brother and reminds him to go brush his teeth. When he scrambles out the room, she leans over and kisses Lance’s forehead. “Rest, darling. Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon.”

Lance closes his eyes and listens to the familiar sounds of his mother rounding up the house to take everyone to school. Screeching, pattering of little feet, bread popping out the toaster, his mother’s stern voice telling everyone they have five minutes. He stretches out over the sheets, gazing up at the plastic star stickers scattered across the ceiling. When he hears the door opening and shutting, he listens for the sound of the car starting and sits up, swinging his legs over the edge. He pads over to the window, offering a clear view of the beach peeking between his neighbors’ houses - if he squints, he can see the very edge of the pier that's become like a second home to him. The sun shines in the early morning, predicting good weather.

Once he's sure he's alone in the house, Lance grins, bounding over to the closet. He grabs his backpack, already prepared with a towel and snacks, and switches out his pajamas for a t-shirt and pair of blue swim trunks. Before he leaves, he stuffs some pillows under his sheets in a Lance shape and tiptoes out the room, down the stairs.

He slips out of the house through the back door, humming an improvised sneaky theme under his breath.

*

The beach is empty during the day at this time of year, adults busy at work and kids in school. It provides the perfect opportunity to go out and meet Keith under the pier.

Lance sees him as he makes his way under, beaming at the sight of the mer turned away from him, sitting comfortably up to his shoulders in water. It's still too far out for Lance to be able to jump in by himself confidently, and ever since getting beached, Keith keeps his distance from the shore himself. The majority of their friendship has been spent with a wide berth between them. But Lance wants to start changing that.

“Hey!” he calls out, waving.

Keith shifts in the water, turning with his brows raised, like he wasn't expecting to see Lance. He probably didn't, Lance thinks, grinning to himself. But Keith smiles softly, drifting just a little bit closer so that the distance between them isn't so great. “You're here again? How many days has it been, now?”

Lance waves it off nonchalantly. “Like a week maybe, but it's no big deal.”

Keith gives him a pointed look. “You can't keep skipping school forever, you know.”

“Watch me!” Lance laughs, sitting down on the sand and pulling out a snack bar from his backpack. “You should see how sick I act. I'm so good at it, I could probably never have to go to school again!”

“You shouldn't do that. School is really important to humans, isn't it?”

“Pshh, what would you know? You don't even have to go.” Lance pauses in the middle of a bite. “Or do you? Is there a mermaid school? Like a school of fish? Even fish have schools, there could totally be mermaid school…” he starts musing to himself, tapping the snack bar against his chin in thought.

When he glances up, Keith is averting his eyes, frowning deeply. “You… you already know what my answer would be.”

Lance swallows, immediately feeling guilty. Oh. Right. It brings him back to the reason why he's been skipping school to come hang out with Keith in the first place.

*

(It's the weekend, and Lance has been pouting ever since he arrived at the pier. Crossing his arms, he kicks at pebbles as he explains he got into a fight at school and his mother grounded him from video games.

“He already gave it to me!” Lance seethes, describing his classmate to Keith. “We traded the cards but after recess he changed his mind and demanded I give it back! It was a super rare holographic card, Keith! And we already traded it, you don't do take-backs!”

“Then what happened?” asks Keith, lying as close as he can to shore on his stomach and idly swirling the water with his fin.

“He tried stealing it from my backpack and I shoved him away. Then we fought.” Lance’s face sours like he ate a lemon. “The teacher made me give it back and now I'm grounded.”

Lance knows Keith couldn't possibly understand a lot of what he's talking about, but he pays attention all the same, which Lance appreciates. “Ugh.” He flops on his back and sighs, watching the shadows of patrons promenading through the pier above. “Does that kind of thing ever happen to you?”

“Does what happen?”

“You ever get in a fight with someone?”

Keith thinks. “Sometimes a shark comes too close so I punch them in the face. They go away after that.”

Lance snickers. “You boop the snoot.”

“What?”

“Nothing. But that wasn't what I mean, like, are there mermaid bullies? And your mermaid parents ground you?”

Keith falls quiet, his light splashes slowing to a cease. “No. I don't have any of those.”

Lance sits back up, his earlier ramblings immediately forgotten. “What do you mean? You don't… have parents?”

Keith shrugs.

“Then who do you go home to every day?”

“No one.”

Lance doesn't know how to take in this information. Keith doesn't look like he's too bothered by it, maybe a little awkward, but not nearly as distraught as Lance thinks he would be if he lived without his family. “Do you know any other mermaids?”

“No, Lance. I've never met anyone else like me.” He speaks so matter-of-factly about it, it pulls and twists something in Lance’s chest. “I've always been alone.”

Lance can't believe he never knew this about his best friend. They've known each other for literally half their lives. But when he thinks about it, he realizes Keith never did talk about home or family or other merfolk, just listened quietly as Lance prattled on about his.

Lance is a social creature. He can't imagine growing up not ever seeing another human. How has Keith survived this long on his own? Does being a mer make a difference? Keith’s already told him once that he stays at the pier so much because he can scavenge for scraps that fall from the restaurant above and pluck fish bait off the hooks of fishing poles, is that really all he needs? No family, no school, no dream job, no games, no friends?

Keith scoots back and starts idly drifting in and out between the pillars, evidently thinking that part of the conversation was over. But Lance doesn't think he can go on as normal after that. He wants to do something for Keith, he just doesn't know what yet.

“I could bring my friends over sometime.”

Keith halts, lifting his head above water with his fin-ears twitching, as if he doesn't think he heard that right. “What?”

“We could have a party! I'll make them promise not to tell anyone first, of course, but after that they can come and you'll make so many new friends!”

Keith scowls. “No.”

“Why not? I'll only bring my best of friends, you'll really like them and I think they'll really like you --”

“I said no, Lance!”

Lance falls quiet, looking at his friend with concern. He doesn't understand. He can only visit after school and on the weekends - any other time Keith must be all alone. “Why?”

The mer treads water a distance away, arms crossed and shoulders hunched in on himself. Lance has come to recognize that look whenever Keith feels particularly defensive or guarded. He doesn't look at Lance for a period of time, but then glances up. “You're… you're the only human I ever want to talk to,” he admits.

And if that doesn't suddenly make Lance feel like he's on top of the world.)

*

He was overjoyed to hear such explicit affection from his best friend, of course, but the fact of the matter was that Lance couldn't be with Keith every hour of every day - and what's more, they rarely ever got closer than a few yards from each other.

That's how Lance hatches his plan, and it's how he finds himself skipping a solid week’s worth of school to hang out with Keith every day.

He's going to spend every waking moment possible with Keith, and he's going to do it learning how to get back in the water. Obviously Keith can't come up to Lance on the beach, so if Lance wants to be able to be with Keith and actually be _with_ him, then he needs to be the one to go to Keith. Once he figured that out, he began to fake his sickness and sneak out every day so he can spend a few hours slowly inching his way into the water. He hasn't made too much progress yet. But he's made a lot more than he would have if Keith weren't there, helping him every step of the way.

It's why he feels extra stupid for asking about mermaid schools. He sinks in on himself, not very hungry anymore. “Sorry.”

He sees Keith shrug, not particularly affected when it comes to his situation as always. “‘S fine.” He drifts closer. “You wanna start?”

Lance can't tell if that's Keith’s way of changing the subject, but he stuffs his snack bar back into his bag and brushes the sand off his legs. “You bet!” Tossing off his shirt, he draws closer, already sloshing through an inch of water.

His goal is to reach Keith today.

Taking a deep breath, he steps forward. Keith simply watches patiently, trying not to disturb the water too much. Lance shuffles forward, kicking up clouds of wet sand and wriggling his toes with every inch forward as he makes his way closer. It's a slow process, but something about it is made easier when he looks to Keith as a goal, an endpoint, rather than past him to the endless expanse of ocean that could suck him up like dust in a vacuum at any minute.

He does wonder about other mermaids. If Keith exists, then surely that means he came from somewhere. Do they have societies, or are they all solitary nomads like Keith? Who gave Keith his real name? Do other humans know about them? Are they like the movies?

Lance is so lost in his thoughts and focused on Keith’s image that he doesn't realize he's already waist-deep until a small wave surges up his chest, and he jumps. It's the farthest he's ever been out since the rip current. Since he almost drowned. Since Keith saved him.

Keith, who would always save him if he ever got carried away by the waves again.

It's that thought that melts the anxiety in Lance’s chest, spreading a smile across his face in something warm and fond. Keith is looking at him with a similar expression, swimming forward just enough to close that distance and reach out his webbed hands. Lance takes them in his own, and he can't help the giddy laughter that bubbles out his throat. “Wow, I can't believe I'm -- Yeah, I told you I'd do it! See!”

Keith smiles up at him, and Lance takes a moment to admire the indigo color of his eyes up close for the first time since he helped him back in the water two years ago. Keith also has a combination of both brown freckles and dark violet scales smattered across his cheeks, glinting in the light. His tail fin looks like a sunset.

“I believed you, y’know,” Keith says. “I knew you could.”

It's not enough to be able to play games and swim together, but it's more progress than Lance has made in years, and for the first time he thinks he can really make it back out there. For now, they'll have to settle with this.

Lance looks at their hands, fingers entwined together, and grins brightly. “You know, it's the same for me too.” He squeezes Keith’s hands. “You're the only mermaid I ever wanna talk to.”

He's treated to the sight of the mer turning as red as his tail fin, then rolling his eyes. “That's probably gonna be how it is whether you like it or not, Lance.”

“It's the thought that counts!”

*

Lance ends up missing a total of fourteen days of the third grade over a stomachache he never really had. 


	4. and she was there all pink and gold and glittering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age ten

It's sudden death, winner take all. In one corner is Lance the human. In the other, Keith the merboy. The plastic rings have all been tossed out, floating aimlessly in the water, some sinking to the bottom and flowing with the undertow. Keith keeps his gills flattened, as per the rules: only one breath of air in the lungs allowed per round. Lance pulls his water goggles down over his eyes, stretching the rubbery strap and releasing it with a snap.

“Get ready to lose,” he boasts.

Keith only sneers. “Get ready to eat those words.”

“Ha! The only thing I’ll be eating is --”

“Ready, set, go!”

“HEY!”

The cheater has already disappeared beneath the waves, no doubt smug over catching Lance off guard. Lance sucks in a breath and dives in right after Keith, fuming silently as he immediately starts searching for the rings. He needs to act quick if he wants to break the tie in his favor.

He spots a green ring first, floating in the middle of open water. Five points. Not much, but it's a start. Lance quickly nabs it in his fingers and searches for the next ring. He wants to find at least one blue ring - those are worth the most, at a whopping fifty points, because they're the most sparse and hardest to spot in the water. A quick glance reveals none, so he aims for the yellow ring being nibbled on by a passing fish.

After catching three more rings, Lance checks on Keith’s progress. He zips in and out through the pillars and over the sandbank like it's nothing, though Lance can tell he's a little hurried because of his limited oxygen. Lance is nearing his own limit, too. He looks around, twisting his body to make a full three-sixty scan, and halts upon spotting a ring only yards from him, down on the floor by several feet. It's blue.

Keith spots it nearly the same second Lance does, and their eyes meet in an unspoken challenge. They move at the same time. The two dive for the ring, Lance moving his upper body the same way Keith taught him, slipping his legs together like a fin tail. It's Lance and Keith, neck and neck. Swimming frantically, Lance almost lets out a whoop of triumph as he grabs the ring, but it stutters in his throat as a burst of bubbles when Keith grasps it at the exact same moment. Again, they glare at each other, both too stubborn to let go.

They wrestle for it. Lance shoves at Keith’s face and Keith wraps his tail fin around Lance like a vice, pulling the ring between them in a tug-of-war that stretches the plastic out in an exaggerated oval threatening to break. Their buoyancy naturally pulls them up closer to the surface as they duel to the death, even resorting to dirty tactics like tickling, only for Lance to discover that merpeople are not very ticklish.

Their heads breach the surface together, and they hold up the ring. Neither have let go in all that time. They take a moment to gasp for breath.

“We can… both count it… in our total,” Keith wheezes, the gills on the side of his neck flexing.

“Yeah… sure… good idea,” says Lance.

He treads closer to the beach, Keith following closely behind, until he can feel the sand beneath his feet. Holding up the rest of his rings, Lance grins proudly. “Let’s see what we've got!”

Keith draws out his catch and they begin tallying the results. They’ve brought in a different assortment of colors, but in the end, even after counting the fifty point blue they caught together…

“Another tie?!” Lance screeches. He flops down on his back in the sand, chest still heaving with exertion. “You gotta be kidding me!”

Keith makes a growling noise in his throat, also not pleased with the results. He tosses the rings back on the beach and crosses his arms.

“Okay,” says Lance, “one more round. This time, we’ll definitely break the tie. AKA, this time I'll definitely win.”

“Let's take a break already, Lance,” says Keith. “It's already afternoon. We should eat something first.”

Lance sits up, wearing a cocksure grin on his face. “Oh? What, are you scared?”

“I'm not scared,” Keith grits. “I'm hungry.”

“Hi hungry. I'm Lance.”

“Hi Lance. I'm not your friend anymore.”

“Wait what noooo! Come baaaaack!” Lance scrambles closer, reaching out a hand dramatically as Keith drops beneath the water without a sound. “Don't leeeeave meeeeee!”

Too late. He's gone.

Lance rolls over and groans. It'll be a while before Keith comes back - especially now that he's started hunting for food himself, instead of scavenging along the pier.

With some free time by himself, he shakes water out of his ears and pulls his goggles off, smiling idly as he runs his fingers over the stretchy material. The goggles and set of rings were a gift on his tenth birthday. He's come a long way with becoming reacquainted with the ocean, and his family has been just as, if not more, excited for his progress. His siblings and cousins squeal in delight whenever he joins them at the beach, and his parents look on proudly. He's back in his element. But no matter how often he plays with his family, he always makes sure to spend time with Keith. He's the reason why Lance has tried so hard in the first place.

He had such a funny reaction to the goggles the first time Lance showed up with them. He held them between his thumb and index finger like he didn't know what to do with them, looking at Lance for an explanation.

“They're to protect your eyes from the saltwater,” Lance had said. “It really burns and stings my eyes if I open them without protection.”

Keith held up the goggles over his eyes curiously. “I can't see a thing in these.” He lowered them, glancing at Lance skeptically. “Humans are always swimming in the ocean. Why haven't they developed better eyes yet?”

Lance shrugged. He had only just started learning about evolution in his science class at school, and shared everything he learned with Keith. “We’ll work on it.” He took the goggles back from Keith before asking, “What about you? Your eyes don't look any different from mine. How do you see underwater without them hurting?”

“Like this.”

Lance screamed when Keith demonstrated his second pair of eyelids for the first time, sliding across horizontally in a clear white film.

“What's so funny?”

Lance is brought out of his reminiscing when Keith suddenly emerges from the water, cradling something in one arm.

“That was quick.”

“I just gathered some oysters. Too tired to hunt,” Keith explains as he drifts closer. He holds one up for Lance to see. “Want one?”

Lance sticks out his tongue. “Eww, no way! Maybe you can, but I firmly believe oysters are meant to be cooked.”

Keith pries one open with his long, claw-like fingernails, and rolls his eyes. “I know humans eat them raw, dummy.” He points to the pier above. “They're always eating them in the restaurant. And they're much more tasty like this.” Lance had tried giving Keith a fried oyster, once. It didn't work out. Keith had grimaced as he swallowed and complained all the good flavor had been taken out.

Lance makes an exaggerated gagging noise as Keith tips his head back and slides the raw oyster down his throat, licking his lips in satisfaction. Keith throws a half-shell at Lance. Lance dodges laughing.

“More for me, then,” Keith says, moving on to the next shell. “And I'll be the one more energized when we start the next round.”

“That's what you think, fishy-boy,” Lance declares. He reaches over for his bag and pulls out a protein bar, wiggling it in his fingers. “As soon as I recharge, it is on.”

He dodges another shell.

Lance happily munches his snack for a few minutes while Keith goes through his catch. He litters the half-shells all around as he fills his stomach, until one oyster suddenly makes him start gagging.

“Keith?!” Alarmed, Lance drops his snack bar and dashes out to him, sloshing through the water. “What's wrong? Are you choking?”

The mer shakes his head, and then reaches into his mouth with two fingers. His face grimaces as he pulls out a small round object, holding it up to inspect.

Lance’s jaw drops. “Holy crow, you almost ate a _pearl!_ ”

“Ugh.” Keith moves to flick it away.

“Woah woah woah hold up!” Lance scrambles forward and grasps Keith’s wrist. “Didn't you hear what I said? That's a pearl!”

Keith looks at the pearl, then back at Lance. “So?”

“They're super valuable, man! And this one was formed naturally, to boot. You can't just throw it away!”

Keith furrows his brows. He moves the pearl to his palm and holds it out, peering back up at Lance. “You're pulling my tail.”

“I'm not.”

“What's so valuable about a pebble? You can't even do anything with it.”

“You make jewelry with it. My mama has a necklace made entirely out of natural pearls her abuela left her when she was little.”

“I don't know how to make jewelry,” says Keith. “I don't even want to wear jewelry. I don't have a use for it.”

Lance groans in exasperation. “But it's so pretty, dude!”

Keith falls quiet, looking back and forth between Lance and the pearl in consideration. His cheeks pink a little as he holds it out and presents it to Lance. “If you're so obsessed with this dumb thing, then you keep it.”

Lance gapes, and points at himself. “What? Really? You're sure? I can have it?”

“It's either that or tossing it back in the water,” Keith says flatly.

Laughing, Lance swipes it out of Keith’s hand. “No way, man, I'm keeping it forever!” He brings it closer for inspection, grinning from ear to ear.

It's a pale opaque white color, no larger than a pinky nail. It's not in a perfect sphere shape, with a few textured bumps here and there. If Lance had to describe the shape, it would be like if a child had tried molding a ball with clay. The sun’s light glints off the surface, leaving sparkles in Lance's eyes.

It's perfect.

“Thank you, Keith.” He smiles brightly at his friend. “I'll treasure it.”

Keith thins his lips. “I still don't see what's so great about it.” He sighs. “But if it makes you so happy…”

He drifts off without finishing the thought. Lance hops back to his backpack and tucks it in the smallest pocket for safekeeping, before returning to the mer.

Lance doesn't stop smiling all day, even after they finish their game and he returns home for dinner. He keeps the pearl closed tight in his fist, his secret treasure. 


	5. while you're changing like the current

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age twelve

Lance has gone through a lot of changes ever since he met Keith, but it feels like lately the frequency of said changes has been turned up to eleven. All the girls in his grade have suddenly shot up in height, his voice cracks in an embarrassing squeak whenever he gets really excited, he constantly has to ask for more hand-me-downs from his older brother because he's already outgrown the ones he gave him just a month ago, what the hecko.

Keith is immensely entertained whenever Lance rants to him about the onset of human puberty, but he doesn't get to have the last laugh. The mer soon starts to go through rapid changes of his own: he developes more gills on his neck, his baby scales shed and they return harder and tougher, extra sets of fins start to appear on his forearms, his back, the sides of his tail. His voice changes, too, though it's not nearly as embarrassing as Lance’s - it's become more melodious, like traces of a song flowing through his words.

Okay, so maybe he does get to have the last laugh. Mermaid puberty is way cooler than human puberty.

Lance tells him this every time Keith shows off a new fin or tugs his mouth to the side to reveal thin developing fangs, but Keith admits to him one day that he doesn't find it nearly as awesome as Lance does. That he's actually a little envious of Lance because he knows whatever change he goes through is normal for humans, while Keith is left to wonder if his body is doing what it's supposed to. He has no fellow merfolk to ask, no books to read. Lance tries helping him by doing some research of his own, but he comes up with little more than theories and stories of their existence. He wishes Keith would think about looking for other mer, maybe even finding his family, but Keith always shuts the thought down.

It's a few weeks until summer vacation. Lance always increases his visiting time with Keith at this part of the year, getting as much fun in as he can before tourist season starts and they have to be extra cautious about meeting under the pier. They've had too many close calls with someone curiously wandering under while Lance and Keith are there. He carries his new surfboard underneath his arm with pride, unable to keep his eyes off the beautiful sleek surface for too long at a time. Taking the familiar trek across the beach, he watches experienced surfers riding the waves with ease, feeling a longing in his chest. He passes them and makes his way to the pier.

“Check it out!” he calls the moment he sees Keith’s familiar dark hair in the water. Keith pops the rest of his head out in surprise. Beaming, Lance stabs the surfboard upright into the sand and poses dramatically next to it. “Ta-da!”

His voice cracks, utterly ruining the moment.

Keith drifts closer, gazing at the surfboard in awe. “Since when did you surf?” he asks, his magical merboy voice much prettier in its development.

“I don't,” says Lance, “not yet. But I'm going to start lessons over break.” Pulling the board out, he brings it over to give Keith a better look. “I just wanted to show you first.” He places it down and lays it out over the water, letting it float to Keith.

Keith draws his hands delicately over the surface. His eyes rove over the board, and Lance can't help but admire the scales that scatter across his cheeks. He looks… a lot more interested in the board than Lance expected he'd be. A little too interested. Actually he's staring at it so intently Lance grows a little concerned.

“Uh, buddy?”

“What?” Keith starts out of his daze, blinking owlishly. “Oh. Sorry. I was just thinking…” His gaze falls back down to the surfboard, stroking the side idly. “I have something I want to show you, too. And I think I can now, with this.”

“What is it? What does the surfboard have to do with it?”

There's a glint in Keith’s eye as he says, “Hop on.”

He refuses to answer any of Lance's questions after that, to his chagrin. Lance eventually finds himself straddled on the board in the water, Keith swimming right below guiding him by a hold on the tether. Whenever Lance spots people out on the beach, he crawls forward on his stomach and paddles, to make sure no one notices. He finds himself watching Keith, the water clear enough to see the sunset color of his tail fin and movement of his body. The mer slices through the water like a hot knife in butter, pulling Lance and the surfboard along parallel to the beach. A wave jostles Lance every once in awhile, leaving him sputtering and wiping wet hair from his eyes.

Keith ends up leading Lance several miles down the seashore, past the end of the boardwalk and continuing on even after the beach itself tapers off into an outcropping of large rocks and land. Lance has never been this far down the coast before. He feels a little nervous, being pulled so far from town, but Keith looks like he knows what he's doing and Lance trusts the mer with his life. Literally.

Eventually Keith slows, and Lance sits up to find himself floating before a small cove. Keith tugs him further in, and Lance gasps quietly to himself as he takes in the sight. It's a small circular bay with a thin sliver of beach sand, surrounded by more of the rocky cliff faces they passed earlier, ensuring total and complete privacy. The shallow water is calm inside the bay, swaying only lightly from the waves outside, and the sun rays beam down warmly on the surface. It feels almost like bath water, Lance observes. He can't resist slipping off the board and submerging himself, his face melting into content at just how warm it is. Glancing around, he notes there isn't a single other soul to be seen, but when he nears the shore he finds a pile of small bones and shells.

Lance turns to Keith, who takes the opportunity to lean on the surfboard himself, propping himself up on his arms. “What is this place? I've never heard of it - I don't think anyone in town even knows about it!”

“That's the idea,” says Keith. “I live here.”

It surprises Lance, somehow. He always knew logically that Keith couldn't be actually living underneath the pier - it's just where they meet up every day. But imagining Keith actually doing things and living a life while Lance isn't there is almost weird.

“Wow… have you lived here all this time?”

“No. I only found it about a year ago. Before that I just kinda slept wherever looked safe.”

Lance practically vibrates in excitement. “But dude! Now that I have a surfboard I can totally come here and we can just play here instead of at the pier all the time! We won't have to worry about getting caught by someone!”

Keith rests the side of his head down on the board, smiling softly to himself, and Lance shocks himself when he suddenly thinks how pretty he looks like that. “Honestly, that's kinda why I brought you here. I've wanted to for a while, but I didn't think you'd be able to swim all this way by yourself. It's a bit far. Even with your board, it still might be too much for you…”

“Hey.” Lance paddles over to Keith, leaning his arms and upper body on the other side of the board. “I can totally handle it, just you watch. I'll come here every single day, just like always. And I'll get my arms all beefy too! The ladies will love it!”

Keith snickers. “Yeah, like how they love the way your squeaky voice breaks their ears.”

“My voice is not squeaky!” Lance says, voice cracking.

Keith laughs some more, the sound like a bell. Lance splashes at him. Keith draws his tail up for a large spray, knocking Lance back, and they break out into rough-housing. Keith cheats by wrapping his tail fin around him like a snake, as always, made even more unfair by the fact that it's grown nearly twice its length since they headed into adolescence. He wins that round.

Laughing together, they take a break and rest back on the surfboard. Keith falls silent first, as Lance shakes water droplets out of his hair. The mer gazes back out to the entrance of the cove, deep in thought.

“You'll really come back every day?”

Lance snorts. “I said that, didn't I?”

“You won't forget me?”

Lance stops. He glances back at Keith, who looks away. “What? Dude, what makes you think I'd ever forget you?”

He jumps a little when Keith suddenly shoots a glare at him, a fire and hurt he's never seen before in his eyes. “Well you keep telling me to go find other merpeople!”

Lance recoils, confused. “What the heck does that have to do with it?”

“You keep telling me to go find my family, like you want me to leave and stay out of your hair or something!”

“That's not what I mean at all!”

“That's what it sounds like!”

“I'm not telling you to go away, man, I'm - !” Lance makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “That's not it! What's with you, all of a sudden! Why are we yelling!?”

“Whatever,” Keith spits out, crossing his arms petulantly. “I'm just saying, if you want me to go away then just say it.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, why are you being like this. I literally just said I don't. Keith, buddy. I'd use your full name right now if I knew how to freaking say it.” Lance drags his hands down his face. “I've told you over and over again it's because I don't know enough about mermaids to help you when something happens, like. What if something changes but it's not normal? What if… I don't know, something happens and I'm not around? Because I can't be with you all of the time, Keith. I actually wish I could, because you're my best friend, but I just can't. And when I think about how happy I am with my family, I want you to feel like that too. But I'm not telling you to go away forever!”

Keith listens quietly, eyes downcast. When Lance finishes, he swishes his tail, and looks back up. “I dunno about other merpeople, but I never felt like I needed to find them. I don't know if that's just a mer thing or a me thing. And it's okay that you can't be with me all the time. I like hearing about your family when you come back. We’re different, Lance. So… could you please stop bringing it up?”

It's not enough for Lance. He doesn't feel like the problem can be solved just like that. They've had their fair share of arguments and fights over the years, as any friends would, and from experience he knows this is probably not going to be the end of it. But right now, after being led to an amazing secret cove, he's just not in the mood to keep fighting. This started out as a good day, he wants it to end as one.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek on the board.

He thinks the relieved bright smile Keith grants him in return is definitely worth it. He could never want to forget a smile like that. 


	6. something's electric in your blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age fourteen
> 
> *
> 
> (rating change: G to T, for a bit of dick talk)

“You,” Lance says as he shoves his surfboard into the sand and falls on his back, “are so lucky you don't have to deal with having a dick.”

Keith raises an eyebrow at the greeting. It's not the strangest first words Lance has given him immediately after surfing through the cove and collapsing in exhaustion, but it's up there. “What.”

“Like,” Lance continues, “there's always been some cool things about it, but I swear lately it's like the stupid thing has a mind of its own! I could be sitting in algebra minding my own business just trying to get my homework done and it's like - zing! - and I'm like ‘what is it, boy? Do the parentheses in problem #5 look like tits?’”

Keith chews idly on a half-eaten fish, listening patiently.

“And I don't even know what its deal is half the time. It just pops up at random and I can't even tell what it's - oh god, I have a presentation in science next week! What if I get a boner up there because it finds the mitochondria, the powerhouse of the cell, incredibly arousing?”

“Are you getting a boner right now?”

“What. No.”

“Then I guess it doesn't actually find the mitochondria, the powerhouse of the cell, incredibly arousing.”

Lance stares up at the clear sky. “Thanks, Keith, you're a real help.”

“It's what I do,” says Keith, tossing the remaining fish bones away to the rest of the pile and taking a cursory lap around the cove.

Lance crosses his arms behind his head, letting the sun warm his dark skin. Starting high school has been quite the experience. New teachers, new classmates, new people to flirt with…

Oh yeah, that's one of his new favorite things, flirting. Hasn't gotten him anywhere yet, still tragically single, but hey it never hurts to flatter someone right? Flirting, surfing, boobs, hanging out with Keith. That makes up his current range of hobbies.

Glancing out to the water, Lance is about to ask Keith if he thinks girl mermaids have boobs, when the sight that greets him makes him shoot up in shock.

“Woah, Keith! What the heck are you doing with your fins?!”

Keith blinks as if out of a daze, and looks down his body. His face flushes when he sees the way every fin he's developed over the years flares out, almost like a peacock. Water droplets trail down and hang off the ends, giving him a vibrant red sunset appearance.

“What --” Hugging his arms around his torso, he looks to Lance with panicked eyes. “I don't know! They've never done this before!”

Standing up, Lance makes his way over, sloshing through the water. “Holy crow, you look…” Beautiful. “… awesome.” He can't hide the excitement in his voice. “Is this a new mermaid thing?”

“Well seeing as how I am a mer, yes Lance, I'm going to assume this is a new mermaid thing,” Keith snaps, inching away with a glare.

Lance can't help but laugh. “Aww, someone's embarrassed!” He reaches out to touch one of the fins on his arm. “Even your gills are flaring up, man, this is crazy.”

Keith rumbles a growl in his throat. “Stop. Making. Fun of me.” His tail fin thwaps the surface in agitation, and Lance has to hold back another chuckle; he used to tease Keith for having the attitude of a cat, and it's the first time in a while he's reminded of it. “I didn't make fun of you for your stupid dick problems.”

Okay, he's got a point. Lance holds his hands up in surrender, placating. “Sorry, I'm sorry.” He can't help the smile pulling at his lips, though. “It's just… really cool. You look really cool, Keith.”

Keith frowns, but most of his anger has melted off. His fins are still flared up, though, to his apparent annoyance. His fin-ear-things stretch out, making him look like he's wearing some kind of crown, and Lance can almost swear his scales look even more vibrant than usual. “I don't think it's cool,” he says flatly.

“Overruled, it is totally cool.”

Keith just rolls his eyes.

Reaching out, Lance carefully strokes over the fin again. He tries pushing it down flat, but it pops back out again. “I'm guessing you're not doing it on purpose.”

Keith shakes his head.

“What do you think triggered it? What were you doing when it happened?” Lance withdraws his hand to tap his chin, studying Keith’s new appearance.

“I…” Keith’s head-fins twitch, like they want to fold back against his head whenever he gets embarrassed. “I don't know. I was just looking at you.”

“Hmmm.” Lance strokes his jaw, feeling the small whiskers he's finally started to grow not too long ago.

Keith starts to examine himself more fully, mumbling something under his breath about how he hopes this isn't some kind of permanent new thing, it'd ruin his hydrodynamics, etc., when Lance gasps and snaps his fingers.

“I know exactly what this reminds me of.”

Keith looks at him cautiously. “You do?”

“Yeah, my little sister once had this betta fish a few years ago. Rainbow, bless her apt naming abilities. But this thing had it out for me for some reason, I swear every time I entered her room it would see me from its tank and flare up and start attacking the glass, and it would not stop until I finally left. I never even did anything to it, it just hated me, and only me, for no reason.”

If Lance still sounds bitter about it, well, maybe it's because he is.

Fuck Rainbow.

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Fascinating.”

“Yup, and that's exactly what this reminds me of now - WAIT A MINUTE.” Lance grabs Keith by the shoulders, staring at him with wide eyes. “Keith. Buddy. My man.” His voice lowers conspiratorially. “Do you want to fight me?”

Keith jerks back. “What! No!”

“But you were looking at me when it happened, right?”

“Yeah, but I wasn't thinking about fighting you!”

“Then what were you thinking about?”

Keith stills. “Nothing,” he says stiffly.

“Keeeeeeith.” Lance squeezes his shoulders. “Be honest.”

“I am.”

“Sources say no.”

Keith looks him in the eye. “Okay, not gonna lie, I do kinda want to punch you in the face right now.”

“I knew it!”

*

(Keith’s fins eventually calm down and fold back against his body, but the next time Lance comes over, it happens again. And again. It takes several days before Keith apparently figures out how to get it under control, but not before he has to fumble through the embarrassment of his life.)

*

(Lance will always remember one day in particular. It's sunset, bleeding reds and oranges and violets and all the colors of Keith's scales across the sky like a living flame. It surrounds Keith, a halo of fire, as he rises from the water looking like something ethereal, untouchable, something mystic. And he is. He’s something known only in legends and story books, and the fact hits Lance like a punch to the gut, as if all these years he's somehow forgotten the significance of it.

Lance cracks a joke then, he can't remember what, but it makes Keith laugh in his bell-laugh, and Lance can't help but sigh.

“Wow,” he whispers.

Keith covers his mouth with a webbed hand, the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth, but he calms enough to ask, “What?”

Smiling with a dopey grin, Lance answers, “Nothing.”)


	7. how big, how blue, how beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age sixteen

Sitting straddled on his surfboard, Lance glances over his shoulder back at the oncoming swell, developing into something promising. Grinning, he lays himself flat and paddles forward, matching its speed, and lets it start to carry him on. When he reaches the perfect position, Lance quickly gets to his feet, and begins to ride the wave. His eyes squint through the spray of water, wind tousling brown hair, heart pounding through his chest. Every movement of his feet controls his path, cutting and slicing through the water.

It's addicting. Adrenaline surges through him, pulling out a triumphant whoop from his lungs as the wave begins to fold, forming a perfect tunnel, and he shoots in. Surrounded on all sides by an oceanic veil, he feels in his own private world. Nothing can reach him here. He feels like Neptune. Poseidon. Sailor Mercury.

Something flashes in the corner of his eye, and Lance glances over to see Keith inside the body of the wave, looking right at him and grinning.

Lance shrieks and wipes out.

Whitewater crashes over him, the roar in his ears deafening as he's ragdolled about until he feels a familiar grip on his hand. Squeezing back, he lets the mer pull him to the surface, kicking when the surfboard tether tugs on his ankle. As soon as his head breaks the surface Lance shakes the hair out of his eyes and spits out brine.

“ _Keith, you asshole!_ ” he shouts through his laughter and disbelief. He swipes at the water, punching a splash. Keith only titters, pulling himself up onto the surfboard and curling his tail fin in amusement. “What if someone saw you just now?”

Keith, glancing out over to the secluded beach area in the early morning, shrugs.

It's a new location they're at, some miles down the seashore in the opposite direction of the cove. It's got much better conditions for big waves, and today's quintessential surfing weather. Lance makes the drive here by himself every weekend. And Keith, evidently, followed today.

“Okay we got lucky this time, but seriously. This place might fill up soon.”

“I'll be careful.” Keith flips his hair over his shoulder, making himself comfortable on Lance’s surfboard.

Lance nearly wheezes.

And they say human teenagers are reckless!

Sighing, Lance grabs hold of the edge and idly treads water, his wetsuit cold and clinging tightly to his skin. They let the next oncoming wave swell them up, then gently set them back down.

“All right,” he finally acquiesces, “today is one thing, we can have our fun. But you absolutely cannot be here tomorrow.” He hopes the sternness in his voice is enough to convince the mer not to push back.

He's relieved when Keith doesn't even try. But he hates the way the fins on his head drops down. “I know,” Keith says, much quieter than usual. “I wish I could, though. I want to watch you.”

Lance can't help but offer a placating smile, understanding. He reaches over - stops himself from covering Keith’s hand - and places it on his shoulder instead. “I know. I'll stop by and give you the full run-down afterwards, okay?”

Keith pouts, honest to god _pouts_ , and it brings attention to his full red lips and Lance's heart is not nearly equipped enough to deal with this.

“Fiiiiine,” Keith draws out dramatically, and smiles when Lance laughs.

Lance starts to withdraw his hand from Keith’s shoulder when he stops, noticing something clinging to the dark locks of hair that frame the mer’s fins. “Hold on, you got a…” He reaches up unthinkingly and touches the object, snickering when he realizes what it is. “Gross, dude, you got seaweed in your hair.”

Keith lifts an eyebrow, and tilts his head forward in silent invitation. Lance chides a small “lazy” under his breath, but draws away the seaweed anyway. His fingers brush strands of Keith’s hair as bits of it clings on, and Lance can't help but marvel at how otherworldly it feels. No hair that's always in the ocean should be this silky and soft - it doesn't make logical sense. But Keith isn't a logical creature, and Lance has to mentally hold himself back from reaching back in to stroke his hand through the mer’s tempting hair.

He successfully removes the seaweed, all slimy and wet and gross, but Lance barely notices the texture in his hand over the indigo eyes staring intently at his. Lance feels himself frozen by that gaze, throat dry and heart speeding. When did Keith get so close?

“I, uh…”

The mer’s eyes drop down and Lance mirrors the action, blushing as he glances at Keith’s lips.

Lips which then pull back into a smirk before Keith quickly swipes the seaweed from Lance’s fingers and thwaps him across the face with it.

Lance shrieks for the second time that day and flails, cursing and kicking at Keith as the mer slips off the board and dives away, his sing-song laughter echoing through the waves.

Suddenly alone, Lance pathetically crawls back on his board to bury his head in his crossed arms, muffling a loud and long groan.

So, that happened.

Confused? Welcome to the club, of which Lance is president.

*

At the peak of their teenage years, the changes have yet to abate and puberty is still a hell of a drug. Lance’s voice has finally settled on an octave, his shoulders have broadened out, and he now adds shaving to his daily skin care regimen.

Keith continues to grow only more and more radiant every day, but something else has changed, as well. His behavior. Lance honestly can't tell if it's a mermaid thing or only a Keith thing, but over the years he's developed almost a playful, confident gait, effortlessly knocking Lance off his game without a care. Lance knows the word for it, but part of him struggles to even associate it with Keith.

Flirtatious.

Lance remembers back when he read every book he could find on mermaids. In some parts of the world, they were called sirens. Beautiful, irresistible beings who coaxed unsuspecting sailors to follow them into the depths, stealing the air out of their lungs as they embraced.

Lance looks at Keith, with his half-lidded eyes and pouty lips, and wonders if this is just something in his blood.

And, of course, sometimes he wonders if it's actually his doing, if he over influenced the mer from all his years of sharing stories about pick-up lines and finger guns and half-tugged smirks. Lance told Keith of every giggle, every rejection, water off a duck’s back because it's just who he is, he loves to flatter people and make them feel good. Maybe Keith picked up on some of that along the way.

But then Lance thinks, nah, Keith’s behavior is way more different than Lance’s flirting - the mer doesn't hand out compliments or offer winks, he splays his body out in the sun like he knows how beautiful he looks, slips away under the surface if Lance blinks one too many times, trills a haunting giggle that feels like a finger down his spine. A tease. ‘You like me? Come and find me.’ And that, Lance supposes, is how the sailor ends up finding himself reaching for the distorted sun above the surface. Which brings him back to the assumption that it's a part of being a mermaid.

The worst part of it all is that Lance doesn't think Keith is even aware of it. Despite the changes, he's still the same _Keith_ Lance has known nearly all his life. A stubborn, impulsive, kind, goof-ball merman. His new behavior really doesn't happen all that often, trickling in like a soft drizzle over water - it's just that Lance is made all the more sensitive to it because of his own feelings.

Yeah. Feelings. That also happened.

Lance doesn't know exactly when. It happened so gradually, like the proverbial frog in boiling water, that by the time he finally admitted it to himself he was already submerged.

There were signs, though. Clues. The most obvious being the fact that it never felt _right_ the few times Lance dated other people.

He remembers telling Keith about his first homecoming dance. He had to explain nearly everything about what it was to the mer before he got to the best part: taking a classmate from his history class. They had fun, Lance thrived in the atmosphere, and he walked her back home afterwards.

(“So yup. Totally got my first kiss last night,” he sighs dreamily, lying sprawled on his back across his surfboard as he floats next to Keith.

Keith furrows his brow. “First kiss?”

Lance sits up straight when he realizes Keith doesn't know what a kiss is and excitedly rushes into an explanation. Two lips, push together, mwah-noise, basically Lance’s new favorite thing ever.

He demonstrates a reenactment with puppet hands.

“ _Oh, Lance! You're sooo handsome!_ ” he coos in a high pitched voice, flapping his left hand in sync.

“ _And modest,_ ” he adds, dropping his voice to a very accurate and manly octave, ‘speaking’ with his right.

“ _Oh, thank you for taking me to homecoming! Can I kiss you?_ ” High pitched again.

“ _Well, maybe just a little,_ ” his right hand flaps.

Lance proceeds to smush his two hands together and makes obnoxious kissing noises as Keith stares at him flatly.

He may or may not have taken some creative liberties for the dramatization.

“But uh,” Lance clears his throat, “that's not the only kind of kiss, people also do that with their parents and stuff, mostly on their cheeks. When people talk about a ‘first kiss,’ it usually means the romantic kind.”

“So that's what I've seen people doing on the beach,” Keith muses. “I always thought they were exchanging food or something.”

Lance falls off the surfboard laughing.)

(Sometime later out of the corner of his eye, he notices Keith absently touching two fingers to his lips, and the image makes something pinch in his chest.)

(That was the first time he explicitly thought to himself, ‘I think I kind of want to kiss Keith.’)

*

When he finishes groaning out his frustrations, Lance pushes himself back up and looks around for Keith, missing out on the next few waves. But when he spots a fellow surfer arriving on the beach, surfboard tucked securely beneath their arm, Lance figures the mer probably left by now, and catches the next one.

*

Lance is almost completely exhausted by the time he enters the cove, but he pushes onward stubbornly, arms burning and breaths heavy. Being able to drive as far as he can down the boardwalk before disembarking has taken off some of the strain of paddling to Keith’s bay, but after the excitement of that morning and celebrations after, he's running close to his limit. But he made a promise to Keith, and he intends to keep it.

As soon as he sees the mer, sunbathing on a large slab of rock, he rolls off his board and runs through the water. “Keith!”

Keith’s ear-fins twitch as he turns to Lance, and smiles. It nearly takes what little breath Lance has away, and he stumbles. Keith slips from the rock and darts out to meet Lance, eyes bright in interest and hope.

“Keith,” Lance says again, wheezing. The mer rises from the water before him, waiting expectantly. But god, Lance has to hold himself over his knees, catching his breath. “Keith,” he starts one more time, “I placed. I got third.”

Keith sucks in a breath. “You're kidding.”

“ _I got third!_ ” Lance shouts to the sky, laughing in near disbelief. “I got third place, oh man Keith I wish you could have seen it --”

He wobbles, and Keith reaches for him. “Come here, you look like you're about to collapse,” he says, unable to hide his own laughter. Lance lets Keith pull him in and rests his weight on him, grinning into his shoulder.

“It was so amazing dude, the only two who placed higher were the types who've been surfing since before they even walked, and sure there wasn't that many competing in the first place and it was just a local event, like there weren't even trophies or money prizes --”

“Lance,” Keith cuts him off. “Don't even try to sell yourself short on this. I may not have been there to see it, but… I know you did amazing.”

The butterflies start wreaking havoc in Lance’s chest. He can feel the ache in Keith’s words. He’d wanted to come so bad, even scouted out the competition area for hiding places, but there weren't any that made Lance feel nearly comfortable enough, especially since it was a local event where practically the whole town (as well as some tourists) came out to watch. He just… couldn't risk Keith being discovered. Couldn't risk him being taken away.

Keith means too much to him.

Taking in a strong breath, Lance draws back, eyes falling soft when he sees Keith’s proud expression. Takes another breath. Swallows thickly.

“Keith,” Lance starts, “I wanted to tell you that I - wait.” He reaches for the back of his neck and unzips an inch from his wetsuit, tugs the collar down, and digs a hand down his front. He pulls out a small drawstring bag tied around his neck. Keith looks at it, then back up at Lance. “This is - shit.”

Keith crinkles his nose. “You put shit in a bag?”

“No!” Lance runs a hand through his wet hair. “I'm just - I'm messing up, I had this whole spiel I wanted to tell you.”

Thankfully Keith seems to understand that it's important to Lance, even if it's confusing, and listens patiently. Taking another breath, Lance starts over.

“I wanted to tell you today that I couldn't have done it without you. Even if you weren't physically there to see, you were still there with me.”

With fumbling fingers, he pulls the strings open and tilts it down into his palm. Out slides a little pearl.

Keith's eyes instantly widen in recognition.

“This, I - whenever I got nervous watching the others or thought I could never be good enough, I'd feel for it around my neck and --” Lance laughs. “This is so cheesy, man.”

“Lance…”

“And not just today, I've actually been wearing this for years now, and I'd think about how you always encouraged me and believed in me, and. I mean, I never thought I'd ever be able to get this far. I couldn't go anywhere near the ocean for years, it was this impossible dream for me.” Lance starts to ramble, eyes focused on the tiny pearl in his hand. “But you're the one who helped me get over that, helped me - helped me love the ocean again. You're the one who saved me in the first place all those years ago. And I think --” Lance pauses, throat thick, and he tries to swallow around it. He's sure his face must be redder than Keith’s tail fin by now, but he pushes onward. “I think every time I hold this, you save me again every day.”

Keith is silent. Lance chances a glance up.

He looks at Lance like he’s painted every sunset the world has ever seen. He whispers Lance's name, emotion palpable in his voice, and Lance completely forgets the rest of everything he'd planned to say.

All of it, everything dissolves away.

He just wants to know if the way Keith looks at him means the same as the way Lance looks at him.

He just wants to know if all those moments he thought there was something between them were real.

He just wants --

“K-Keith,” his voice wavers, “can I… can I kiss y - _mmph_ \--”

Keith beats him to the punch. He practically launches himself onto Lance, leaving him stumbling backwards and closing his fist around the pearl before he can drop it.

Keith tastes like the ocean.

Lance wraps his arms around him, pulling him close, and the mer presses his lips so hard it leaves him dizzy. It takes him a few moments to catch up, to believe this is even real, but once he's set Lance returns the kiss, smiling into it as his eyes fall blissfully shut.

It's the worst first kiss he's ever had.

Keith obviously doesn't know the little details of how humans kiss, just lips to lips and press, and he runs away with that minute level of knowledge with everything he has. He kisses so hard it's bruising, like he wants to force everything he needs to convey in this one moment. Lance honestly worries for the state of their teeth.

It's the best damn first kiss he's ever had.

Even when one of Keith's fangs nicks the corner of his mouth, it's the best first kiss.

Even when he wants to gasp for air and Keith won't let him part long enough, it's the best first kiss.

Even when Lance finally crumbles underneath Keith’s weight and collapses into the sea and Keith only kisses _harder_ \--

 _especially_ then --

it is still the best damn first kiss. 


	8. between two lungs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> age eighteen

Lance loves his new surfboard. It glides like a beauty through the waves, so slick and fluid he swears sometimes it makes him fly. That's not the best part though - it's the customized paint job.

Lance grins down at the art of a blue mermaid wrapped around the board as he straddles it, waiting for the next good swell. He lets a few pass, bobbing up and down, before finally picking one and meeting its speed. As the wave grows, he jumps up on his feet and starts cutting across. It begins to fold over into a crystal-smooth tunnel, surrounding Lance on all sides, and he skates his fingers along the side as he rides.

A flash of red enters his vision, and Lance smirks to himself, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He bends low, arms held wide for balance. Waits for the perfect moment.

Then --

Keith yelps as Lance suddenly shoots out and grabs his hand, pulling him out of the wave and wiping out together. Lance lets the current take him under, bubbles seeping from his jovial grin. He takes comfort in their hands holding tight to one another, and he feels Keith grabbing for the other. Lance threads their fingers together and squints his eyes open through the salt water.

Keith is above him, haloed by the bright sun beyond the surface, and he meets Lance’s eyes as he squeezes their hands and begins to pull Lance back up.

Once they breach the surface Lance tosses his hair back and finally has the air to start laughing.

“Gotcha!” His eyes crinkle in mirth, full of pride and giddiness. “Heh heh, I finally caught youuuu.”

“I'm… actually impressed,” Keith concedes, smiling with an arched eyebrow as he recovers from the surprise. “Guess I'll have to work on my stealth from now on.”

“Don't. I like the face you make when I catch you off guard.” Lance leans in and kisses the tip of Keith’s nose, pulling back with a satisfied warmth when he sees Keith blink and flush. “Yeah, just like that,” he chuckles, returning back to nuzzle their noses gently.

“Hmm. But therein lies the problem,” Keith lowers his voice, suddenly sultry, tracing the line of Lance’s nose with his own. Their lips brush, and he tilts his head. “So do I.”

Keith punctuates that statement with a hard kiss, swallowing Lance’s surprised gasp after he lurches forward and throws his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. Lance thrashes a little before recovering quickly and returning the kiss, smiling contentedly into it. Well, they did always agree turnabout is fair play.

They’ve gotten much better at kissing over the last two years - naturally, they took every opportunity to practice and learn as much as they could. Lance had to discover not to place his hands over Keith’s neck at risk of blocking his gills, and so now his favorite is to gently caress his face, thumbs stroking Keith’s cheeks and framing his fins. Keith, on the other hand, has learned to be mindful of his fangs, keeping them retracted safely where they won't nick Lance’s lips.

But one thing Lance thinks will never change is Keith’s fiery passion. He always starts off hot, burning, stealing the breath from his lips. The longer they lock onto each other, the more Keith gives him everything he has. Lance soon finds himself wrapped up in Keith - literally - as the mer wraps the entirety of his tail fin around Lance’s body like a python, holding him tight and keeping him close so that Keith can kiss him again and again, harder and harder.

“Mmh --”

Lance grows dizzy, easily overwhelmed by his boyfriend as always. And he supposes Keith must be feeling similar, because when Lance flutters his eyes open he sees that Keith’s fins have begun to stretch and flare out, framing his body as the mer blissfully remains none the wiser.

Lance quickly places his hands on Keith’s shoulders and pushes back, lips separating with a soft pop as he laughs breathlessly. “Woah woah, let’s slow down there a bit, tiger-shark.”

Keith blinks his eyes open in confusion before realization dawns on him and he fumbles, releasing Lance from his vice-like grip. “Uh. Right. Sorry about - right.”

Smiling, Lance pecks Keith right on his silly, flustered cheek. (And if that isn't just the best thing ever, getting to smooch Keith wherever he wants, whenever he wants. Lance only has to let the thought pass through him once, ‘I’d like to kiss that boy right in the face,’ and he can get to do it! Life is good.) “Hey, don't worry about it.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the empty early morning of the beach. “Just want to make sure we don't get too preoccupied anywhere we can get caught, as usual. That's all.”

He's glad when this seems to mollify Keith, and he relaxes. He lets his fins properly fold back to his body before drifting closer, and tilts his head to let his nose run down the side of Lance’s neck.

“Good,” he says, “because I want to be the only one who gets to catch you.”

Lance sputters as Keith pulls back and gives him a teasing smirk, slipping down into the water and darting away before Lance can react.

Yeah, some things never change.

*

Lance’s knee bounces persistently beneath his gown as he waits for his row to be called up. Every once in awhile he glances to the bleachers, where his family takes up nearly a fourth of the space, and winks when they all point at him and wave. Turning back to face the stage, he absently traces a hand over his heart, feeling the comforting weight of his drawstring bag beneath the gown.

When his row is next, he stands with his classmates and makes the trek up the stage, Pomp and Circumstance playing incessantly in the background. One by one, each student crosses the stage, eventually reaching Lance.

When his name is called out his family goes wild, cheering and screaming, and he takes a few confident struts before pretending to trip and somersaulting across the stage, popping back up and striking a pose in front of the principal. The audience gasps and laughs, breaking out in applause as he bows and blows everyone kisses and turns to his principal, who just rolls their eyes at his antics before clasping Lance’s hand and giving him his diploma. They smile proudly at him, and he has to give them credit for putting up with him for four years.

*

It's dusk by the time Lance makes it through the celebrations and after-parties and finally arrives at the beach. The stars rise to chase the dying sun across the sky, splashing colors over choppy waves. He takes a minute to just stand there, absorbing the sight with a contented sigh.

Then, Lance gathers the skirts of his gown in his hands and sprints across the sand, kicking it up everywhere as he frantically runs toward his goal. Salty wind whips at his hair, the smell of seaweed settles in his lungs, the cry of seagulls ring in his ears. It's dark by the time he arrives.

The lights are on in the pier above, illuminating the sand in horizontal stripes below. He dashes through, breathing heavy, splashing obnoxiously when he reaches the water.

“Keeeeith,” he calls, happy when the mer pops his head above water in response.

“What,” he says, “are you wearing.”

Lance spreads his arms out and poses. “My cap and gown! Check it out. It totally brings out my eyes.” He tries to spin and do a twirl, but the cheap fabric gets tangled around his legs, heavy with seawater. He stumbles a little, and Keith lurches up to catch him in his arms. “I just wanted to show it to you,” Lance goes on to explain without missing a beat. “But it also means it's summer vacation now. And I want to spend every minute I can with my amazing boyfish.”

Keith brightens, then pauses. “… You mean boyfriend.”

“That's what I said.” Lance curls his arms around Keith’s shoulders and smiles into a gentle kiss.

*

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

They're in Keith’s cove, relaxing on a warm rock slab bathing in the sun. Lance has one arm pillowing his neck, the other idly stroking through Keith’s supernaturally-silky hair as the mer lays himself over Lance, head resting on his chest and tip of his tail fin hugging Lance’s ankle. Lance can feel his heart beating against Keith’s cheek, gently rising and falling with his breaths.

“I've been doing some thinking, lately,” Lance continues softly. He watches the clouds above slowly float by, hears the gentle rumble of waves lapping at their feet.

“‘Bout what,” Keith mumbles, his breath brushing against Lance’s skin.

“About… a lot of things.” He absently twirls a black lock of hair around his index finger. “Like the fact that it's summer, now, but I don't have to go back to school when it ends.”

Keith hums a pleased, sleepy sigh.

“And that led me to thinking about other stuff too, like… like how if you ever wanted…” Lance releases a breath through his nose, brushing a bit of Keith’s hair. “To search for your family. I could go with you.”

Keith stills, then lifts his head to look at Lance. “What?”

“I just wanted to put it out there,” Lance says, “we’re not twelve anymore, we can talk about it without fighting. Back then, you felt like searching for your family meant that you had to leave me.” Lance meets his eyes steadily. “That's not a problem anymore.”

“Lance…”

“I know you always said you never wanted to.” Lance cards his hand through Keith’s hair, skating it down to cup the back of his neck. “And if you still don't, that's fine. But I just had to bring it up one more time because you wouldn't have to make that kind of choice anymore. You say you never felt the need, but sometimes when I talk about my family you get this look in your eye and I just…” he drifts off. “Or you could meet my family.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Only if you want! But I know they won't say anything if I ask. You practically know them already,” he laughs. “But again, it's all up to you. I just figured, now that I'm free, I might as well put that out there.”

It's a little daydream he has, sometimes. Introducing Keith to his family. They would love him, he’s sure.

Actually, sometimes he wonders if his mother doesn't already know about Keith. She was always a lot more chill with letting him wander out alone on the beach as a little kid than he’d expect. Back then, he just figured she knew how awesome and responsible he was, but whenever he thinks about it too much…

Well, that's a problem for another day.

“Lance, I…” Keith drops his gaze, and quietly admits, so soft Lance barely hears, “I don't know.”

Heart warm, Lance smiles. “You don't have to choose right now! Or even anytime soon, for that matter. But if you ever want to talk about it, let me know. I'm with you. Whatever you choose, I'm with you.”

Keith looks at him with eyes filled with emotion. Overwhelmed, he buries his face in Lance’s chest. “I love you.”

Oh god, Lance will never get over hearing that. It's rare for Keith to initiate it. Blissfully happy, Lance kisses the top of his head. “Love you too.”

*

“You ready?”

“You know it.”

*

Whatever happens, they'll make it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading/commenting/leaving kudos! It means the world to me, and I read them every day. :)
> 
> Special thanks to Dasseinhundin for all your support as I screamed about this AU! Thanks for sticking with me through and beyond the great Oyster Discourse. 
> 
> #teamraw4life


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